


What We Left

by FlufferNutterButter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Teenage Pregnancy, Trouble With The Law
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:50:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlufferNutterButter/pseuds/FlufferNutterButter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot can change in six years, and not always for the better. When Kurloz receives a strange phone call, a lot of new people come into his life; friends, enemies, and some in-between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Phone Call / Two Nights Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Stop looking at me.

The day that Kurloz received the phone call that changed his life, he was running late for work.

The cello was an instrument that he’d started learning from a young age, and it had carried on into his life as a mean of stress relief. Musical therapy. And, typically, something he did to just kill time. He tended to become completely entranced by his own playing. As he closed his eyes, swaying slightly to the movement, he barely registered a sound clashing discordantly with his music.

He opened his eyes, lowering his bow, and inclined his head towards the source of the sound. It was his cell phone, sitting on the counter in the kitchen. Rolling his eyes, he put the cello against its stand, put up the bow, and then went to the kitchen. By this point, the phone had ceased its notification, and displayed on the screen was a number he did not know. Shrugging, he pocketed it, and then cast an eye to the clock on the oven. His eyes widened and he swore, grabbing his keys and dashing to the bedroom to get his jacket. Right before he left, though, the phone rang again. He yanked it out of his pocket and looked at the display; the same number as before. He grunted, answering the call, pressing it to his ear, and sharply barking; “Hello?”

_“Uh…”_

Kurloz paused at the door, not wanting to take a discussion into the hallway. He was in a mood, and if he started shouting, it wasn’t going to be polite. He kept waiting. He could hear voices, very quiet on the other end.

“Look, I have somewhere to be, and if this is-”

_“Is this Kurloz?”_

He paused. It was a child on the other end, either a boy or a girl; he couldn’t tell. Slowly, he said, “Yes…”

 _“Um,”_ more conversation on the other end, someone saying “Give me the phone!” and the voice on the phone saying “No!” before continuing, quickly, _“Our momma didn’t come home.”_

Kurloz physically deflated. He was not the one to deal with this. “Uh, are you sure? Look, kid, I think you should call the police about-”

 _“No!”_ There was a struggle on the other end, and then the other voice was on the phone.

 _“Okaygoodbye.”_ Fast, one word, and the phone clicked. The conversation was over.

This was the day that Kurloz was late for work.

* * *

 

The day after the day that Kurloz was late for work, he woke up near noon to the sound of his phone ringing. He cursed, remembering the bizarre phone conversation from the day before. He reached for the phone and shoved it under his pillow. He dragged himself out of bed, feeling kind of gross, and went to take a shower.

Minutes later, he was out, feeling much better about himself, and decided to look at his phone. Dreading seeing that strange number again and being prank called by some kids, he slowly activated the device.

He had ten phone calls and four voice mails from Rufioh Nitram. Kurloz felt his stomach drop a little, just a small amount of nerves as to what could have caused Rufioh to call him so much. Rather than listen to the voice mails, he decided to go ahead and call Rufioh back.

On the second ring, the other man picked up.

_“Kurloz, where the fuck have you been? There are-”_

“I just woke up, man.” He paused, since he heard someone knocking at the door to his apartment. “Hold on, there’s someone at the door.”

_“Oh shit, Loz, that’s what I’m calling about, look,”_

“Ru, hanging up.”

_“No! Don’t hang up! Listen, there were some-”_

“Call you back in a minute.”

Kurloz hung up and went to the door, opening it.

He didn’t lack height, and so he was used to looking down at people, but when he looked down, he had to keep moving, farther and farther, because the people at his door didn’t even come up to his waist. He finally found himself staring at two small, dark-skinned children, with incredibly similar features. They were about the same height, had the same nose, the same shaggy hair, but one, who appeared to be a girl, had hers tied up messily in a green ribbon. Everything else about their faces looked the same, save for their eyes. Kurloz didn’t know which one he should be more shocked about, the one with eyes the exact same color of his own, or the one with eyes identical to the ones of the girl he’d last seen six years ago.

His phone was ringing again. Kurloz could do nothing more than raise it to his ear, answering the call. The rest of his body was frozen with the brink of realization.

_“Kurloz, I told you not to hang up! What’s-”_

“Rufioh.” The still man’s voice was hoarse. “Who the fuck is at my door.”

On the other end, Rufioh sighed deeply, the sigh of a man who had seen and done way too much before noon on a Sunday.

_“At least invite them inside. Look, I, I can’t leave the shop right now, but, um, here’s what happened. Maybe, maybe sit down.”_

Kurloz nodded, more for himself than for the person on the other end of the phone. He motioned for the children to follow him. The green-eyed one seemed hesitant, but her brother urged her forward. He pulled her by the arm and soon, they ran inside and jumped up on the sofa by the window.

Kurloz rested against the breakfast bar. “Go on.”

_“Okay, so, I was at the park with Aradia this morning, and there’re these two kids just walking around, looking kind of grungy, and I’m suspicious, but of course, Aradia wasn’t. I mean, she’s fucking three. I looked away for one goddamn minute, and when I look back, shoot, she’s playing with them. And she tells me, when I go over there, that ‘they want to see Kuruz’. Which is, y’know, you. Man, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I totally showed them where to go. I took them to your block, man. I would’ve probably delivered them to your door, but the shop opened at eleven. And it’s not until I’m walking Aradia to the shop, and we’re almost there, that she says it, man. She says ‘he looks like Kuruz’. And I realized, dude, what the fuck.”_

Kurloz nodded along with Rufioh’s tale, and then, when it was over, kept nodding, and nodding, even as he slipped down to the kitchen floor with a _thump_.

From over the counter, a small voice came, “Mister, are you alright?”

Kurloz dragged himself around the edge of the counter and gave the kids a thumbs up. It was the little girl who’d spoken, the girls with eyes like… like…

“How old are you kids?”

Both held up five fingers. Kurloz sat up and against the back of the counter so that they couldn’t see him, and put the phone back up to his ear.

_“…loz? Kurloz? Are you still there?! Do I need to call 911?!”_

“You think the other kid looked like someone? Not the one that looks like me, the other…”

 _“What, the green-eyed one? ….Kur_ loz _…!”_

“Yeah… Wait. Oh, _fuck_!” He stood. “I gotta hang up.” Without waiting for Rufioh’s response, he did just that, and then immediately dialed another number. When this person picked up, Kurloz didn’t even wait for them to say “Hello”.

“What’s Latula doing?”

_“The fuck? Why?”_

“Please, Mituna. Just… I need her… both of you… to come over. It might be motherfucking _urgent_.”

He put the phone down and turned to the kids. They were deep in conversation, using sign language. Kurloz sucked in a breath, placing his hands flat on the cool marble countertop, attempting to use its temperature to calm his nerves. He watched their exchange.

_[He’s not nice.]_

_[Trust me. Are you scared?]_

The girl shook her head. _[I don’t like it.]_

Kurloz sighed, walking over to the sofa, and crouched in front of them.

_[Don’t be scared.]_

The two kids gawked at him. He signed more.

 _[I want to help.]_ He then switched to just speaking. “What are your names?”

The boy pointed to himself. “’M Gamzee.” He then pointed to the girl. “Nepeta.” The girl was leaning in close to Kurloz. He returned her intense gaze.

“Do you know who I am?”

Nepeta shoved a hand into her pocket, but never broke her expressionless stare. She pulled out a crumped paper and thrust it at him at the same time that she said, without preamble;

“Dad.”

Kurloz shut his eyes and exhaled. He took the paper from the child and looked at it with heavily lidded eyes.

He recognized this photograph. He knew it well. It was the night of their graduation barbecue. Meulin had her arms around Kurloz’s neck and was smiling, big, eyes closed. He was actually trying to look at the camera and smile, but she was yanking him down to her level.

* * *

 

_The Peixes’ had a nice-ass lake house, and it was only an hour out of the way, so it was unanimously decided that it should be the venue for their post-grad party. Though the parents supplied most of the food and comforts, they quickly made themselves scarce, and then left altogether, leaving the others to their own devices. Rufioh manned the grill, since that boy could cook damn near everything, and Meenah ran a tight ship of the drink coolers. An incredibly expensive stereo system was brought outside, and Meulin was moving with the feel of the bass._

_Aranea was toting a camera around, taking snapshots of everyone and everything. Meulin grabbed her hand and dragged her over to where Kurloz was standing._

_“Photo op!” she screamed, jumping up and wrapping her arms around his neck. He looked at the camera and grinned, wincing slightly at his girlfriend’s sharp tug. The shutter went off, and Aranea lowered the camera; Meulin rushed to her side to look at the image._

_“Oh my God,” she said, “I want, like, twelve.”_

* * *

 

The edges were damaged, and there were tape remnants on one corner; it looked like it’d been torn from somewhere. Kurloz looked up to ask Nepeta where she’d gotten it, but Gamzee beat him to it.

“You!” he shouted, and Nepeta recoiled. Gamzee crawled so that he was right next to her. “That was Momma’s _special_!” He yanked it away from Kurloz.

Nepeta straightened up, and so did Kurloz. He could tell, things were about to get messy. The little girl grabbed for the picture. “I wan’ it! ‘s important!”

Kurloz knew what would come next. That weak paper couldn’t handle the tug-of-war between two five-year-olds.

_Rrrrrrrrrrrrrip_

Both children gasped. The image was released from both grips, and it fell to the sofa. The tear didn’t go all of the way through, but did ruin the image of their mother.

“You _ripped_ her! Now we’re never gonna find her!” Nepeta’s face scrunched, and tears began as she went into full-on tantrum.

As much as that conclusion didn’t make any sense, it struck a chord with little Gamzee, and he began to cry as well.

“I dint _mean to_!”

Both children sobbed, and a knock came from the door. Kurloz swore.

“Mother _fuckers_ ,” he whispered. He sighed, then, and reached out to both children.

“Shhhhhh,” he whispered, rubbing both of their backs. “Hey now, it’s okay. It’s just a picture, and we’re going to find your mom, even without it. Shhhhh…”

“Kurloz, what the fuck is going on?” a voice came from behind. He turned; Mituna was standing at the door, Latula behind him.

Both children, who had begun to calm down with Kurloz’s words, looked at the new man. Like typical children, they both began to say “Oooooooooh”.

Nepeta pointed at him. “You said a bad woooord.”

Mituna made a face and stuck out his tongue, while Latula walked around him and knelt beside Kurloz, looking at the children. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh, my God.” She turned to him. “Kurloz…”

“Yes!” he said, standing. “Yes, I apparently got Meulin pregnant right before she _fucking left me_. Yes, she apparently had _twins **.**_ No, I had no idea! They just fucking showed up today! They say-” He stopped, looking down. Nepeta was standing on the sofa so that she could reach his hand, and she was tying a green string around his wrist. “What are you doing?”

She put a finger to her lips. “You said bad words. That’s a bad thing. Whenever Momma did bad things, she’d tie a ribbon ‘round her wrist ta remind her.”

Kurloz was frozen. He didn’t know what to say. But Latula leaned over and ruffled Nepeta’s hair. “That’s very sweet of you. My name’s Latula. What’s yours?”

“Nepeta,” she said, still intently tying the ribbon. She finished a sloppy bow and smiled to herself, then up at Kurloz. He managed a small smile back.

“And I’m Gamzee!” the boy introduced himself. Mituna walked beside Kurloz and reached out a fist to Gamzee, inviting a bump.

“Awethome. I’m Mituna.”

“You talk funny,” Gamzee said. Mituna made a face.

“No, you talk funny.”

“Mituna, stop,” Latula said, rolling her eyes and smiling. She then grew serious. “Kurloz, why are they here? Where’s Meulin?”

Kurloz couldn’t look at her. Instead, he gazed outside.

“That’s why you’re here,” he said, just as both kids said;

“Gone.”

* * *

 

_“Thanks again for watching them on such short notice,” Meulin said, pulling out a handful of cash and handing it to Rose._

_“No problem at all, ma’am,” Rose said, “They’re really quite sweet children, if not a little bit rowdy. I’ll certainly come over again the next time you need help.”_

_They waved goodbye to Rose, and Meulin set to work putting her two children to bed. Many times throughout the process, she told them how much she loved them. That was how Meulin parented; with more love to go around than anyone else._

_Once the little ones were in bed, Meulin went to her own room and pulled out a green book, opening it to the first page. On that page was, taped, a picture of her with the children’s father, whom they had never met. She’d written under it “Me & Kurloz” and drawn a heart at the end. _

_Just as a forlorn sigh broke her lips, Meulin was interrupted by her daughter’s voice. “Mommy?”_

_She put the book down and went to the door, scooping up the child. “Yes, kitten?”_

_“I can’t find Pounce.”_

_Meulin carried Nepeta back to the room she shared with Gamzee. Up on a shelf, too high for the girl to see, Pounce the stuffed cat sat. Meulin vaguely remembered moving it there while cleaning. She put Nepeta back in the bed._

_“Oh, you can’t find him, huh? Couldn’t he be… right…” she reached up and grabbed the toy. “Here!”_

_“Pounce!” Nepeta grabbed the cat in a tight hug. “Thank you!”_

_Meulin patted her daughter’s head. “Go to sleep now, okay?” She left the room, and as she shut the door, said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”_

_That was a lie. As she shut the door, she noticed a light on in the kitchen. She frowned, confused, and walked over to see what it was. As she did so, she saw that the front door to her apartment was standing open. She froze for just an instant, but as she lunged to grab a phone, someone caught her from behind. A hand clamped over her mouth, and a cool, sharp blade pressed to her neck._

_“If your kids come out here, this could get messy,” said a voice, “So I’d keep quiet if I were you.”_

* * *

 

“She wasn’t home when we woke up,” Gamzee said. “Yesterday.”

“Didn’t come home at all,” Nepeta added.

Latula nodded. “Okay. I need to ask you two a few questions. First, do you know your mom’s phone number?”

Both children nodded, and together, sang ten digits to a jingle. Latula looked at Mituna. “Call it.”

While he did that, Latula continued her interrogation. “Do you know where she works?”

“Pet shop,” Gamzee said.

“Do you know the name of the pet shop?” Latula asked. Both children shook their heads.

Mituna came over, pocketing his phone. “Nothing. Didn’t even ring.”

“We can’t just call every pet store in the state.

“We don’t have to,” Mituna said. “Where do you guyth live?”

“They’re not going to know that,” Latula said just as the children chimed in, “Teastone”.

Mituna looked at Latula, making a face. “What kind of five-year-olds do you know?”

Latula wasn’t paying attention, instead searching pet shops in Teastone on her phone. A few came up, and she began calling.

“Teastone…” Kurloz said. Mituna grimaced.

“That’th two hourth away. How’d you get here?”

“Took a bus,” Gamzee muttered. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hid his face.

Kurloz reached out, very hesitantly, and even stopping a few times before he ruffled Gamzee’s hair. The boy looked up and smiled. Nepeta crawled over on the sofa next to her brother. Kurloz smiled and crouched down to their level, patting both of them.

He stood when Latula stepped to them. “I called Meulin’s workplace. She didn’t come in yesterday or today. They said they’d call if she did later. Kids,” she said, “I have one more question for you. Has she ever done anything like this before?”

Nepeta shook her head vehemently. “Momma never leaves us alone. We got day care or we got a babysitter when we don’t got her.”

“This is enough to treat it like a missing person’s report,” Latula said to Kurloz and Mituna. “I’m going to call it into Teastone PD and ours, too. Set up a radius. And-”

“Miss Lalula?” Gamzee said, looking nervous. She knelt to him.

“Yes?”

“Uh, yesterday, when Momma was gone, I… I found the front door open.”

Latula’s eyes widened. “Like, unlocked?”

“Uh-uh,” Gamzee shook his head, “Open.”

She pulled out her phone, and said severely, “I’m calling them now.”

* * *

 

When the sun began to set, so the children began to be drowsy. Following a dinner of fast food, Kurloz put clean sheets on the bed and let them sleep there. Latula was sending him constant texts as she fielded phone call after phone call, referring many of the concerned parties to her mother, in order to let the children remain, relatively undisturbed, with their father. Finally, as the sky turned black and the clock crept closer to midnight, she called him.

_“Mom’s pissed as hell, but they’re in your hands for now. We’re going to have to jump through some major legal hoops later, and you’ve got to take the kids in for a paternity test, which I think is bullshit, but whatever.”_

“Thanks, Latula. I don’t know motherfuckin’ how I can pay you back for this one.”

 _“You can’t. Straight up. But, Kurloz, are you really okay with this? You didn’t know before today that you even_ had _kids. Now, you’ve got two, with Meulin, and she’s missing.”_

“I think… I’m still in shock a little bit. But Mituna’s still here; if I start to lose my motherfuckin’ mind, he’ll slap me around a bit an’ make sure I don’t go off the deep end or any shit like that.”

“You’re damn fuckin’ right!” Mituna shouted from the kitchen. Kurloz shushed him.

 _“Good. Um… They searched the apartment,”_ Latula began, _“And they found something I think you oughtta see. I can’t bring the diary itself, but tomorrow, I’m going to bring by photocopies of the pages. It’s the one she kept while she was pregnant.”_

Silence,

_“Kurloz, are you still there?... I shouldn’t’ve told you that. I-”_

“I want to see it,” Kurloz insisted.

_“…Okay. See you tomorrow.”_

* * *

 

In the dream, he was sitting on a chair. Or was it a bench? Sofa? He could’ve even been on the ground. In front of him was a dark expanse, dotted with twinkling, shifting lights.

One light drifted towards him, closer and closer. He stood up to grab it before it flew behind him, but managed only to interrupt its course. The item drifted, out of his reach, to rest on the ground a little ways away from him.

He picked it up.

It was the photograph from the graduation party.

When he looked up, he was inside of a house. The dark expanse with the twinkling lights was a blend of the night sky and the moon’s reflection in the lake that he could see outside the window.

But soon, his view was partially obstructed by something. Someone stood in front of him, wrapped her arms around him, braced herself on her toes to reach him.

He held her and knelt to her.

“Where did you go?” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

She looked up to him. He couldn’t see her eyes.

* * *

 

Something hard and heavy landed on his stomach, and Kurloz coughed. His eyes shot open to meet Mituna’s, almost completely hidden by shaggy hair.

“Gittup, man. You’re hoggin’ the sofa and the kids’re hoggin’ the stools.”

Kurloz looked over at the breakfast bar. Three stools were there, enough for both children and Mituna. But Nepeta was sitting on two, so that she was high above Gamzee, precariously balancing a plate of eggs on her lap.

“Why does she have two.” He said.

“She beat me in rock-paper-scissors for it.”

“There are three stools.”

“She beat me in rock-paper-scissors for it.”

Kurloz sighed and shoved Mituna off of him. Luckily, he’d finished his eggs, and only an empty plate clattered to the floor.

“Dick. Get up, Latula will be here soon.”

Those words made Kurloz’s stomach sink. From the bar, Nepeta turned and held out her plate. “D’ya want eggs?”

He walked over and took the plate from her, putting it on the counter so that he could carry her with two arms and get her off of her Ikea tower.

Gamzee hopped off of his stool and followed Kurloz to the sofa, where he put Nepeta and Mituna. The little boy hovered right next to Kurloz, like he’d done the night before. Maybe it was endearing.

As Kurloz was getting everyone to settle down with television, a knock came at the door. He answered it, revealing Latula and two strangers.

“Hey,” Latula waved, “These are Detectives Strider and English.”

The eggs grew cold on the counter.

* * *

 

She’d been in and out of consciousness the past two days, but now, finally, she felt like she was waking up for good. Her body ached all over, but mostly on her left side. Her throat was dry, so much so that she found breathing difficult. She felt sick to her stomach.

When she tried to move, her arm was tugged down; sharp pain shot through her left arm, from her wrist to her shoulder. Her eyes opened, and a dry cough wretched her throat, the only sound she could make. She sucked breaths through her arid airways, trying to calm herself.

It was then that she realized she was not alone.

A very familiar face watched with sad eyes. The woman knelt, placing a cup of water on the table next to the bed where the other was chained. A sandwich, from some fast-food joint, was put there too.

She looked the other woman in the eyes.

“I am so. So sorry.”

Damara then stood and left Meulin, locking the door behind her.


	2. Don't Forget to Return to Me / Three Nights Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can a missing heart be broken?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late, I'm late, but I'm here.

Kurloz looked from the officers to the kids and back. By the time he looked back, the tall one, was it Strider or English? Was gone.

“Uh…” he gestured to the gap between the other guy and Latula. The man shrugged.

“He had to take a call. Probably about the crazy spike in homeless activity in the last couple of days.” He spoke with a thick British accent. The man gestured. “May we come in?”

“Uh… yeah…” Kurloz backed up and let them inside. The man was carrying a briefcase; was that where the diary pictures were?

Latula and the other guy walked over to where the children and Mituna were.

“Hullo, kids!”

“I’m not a child,” Mituna huffed. Latula shushed him.

“My name’s Jake English,” he continued, “And I’m here to help you get your mum back.”

Both children beamed up at him. With those words, he’d become their superhero. Latula bit her lip.

“Strider and I will want to talk to you separately,” English informed Kurloz. “Is there another room in your apartment?”

“The bedroom,” Kurloz muttered.

“That’ll work. I’ll stay out here and talk to the kids.”

“Stay with him,” Latula cut in, talking to Mituna. He nodded.

“Good plan.” A new voice sounded from the door, and Strider quickly swept through the room and to the bedroom door. Kurloz and Latula looked at each other, making faces. Neither really knew what was going on with these two, but they followed him into the bedroom.

There was one chair in the bedroom, a swivel chair by the desk. Strider took it for himself, leaving Latula and Kurloz to sit on the bed.

“Alright,” he said, “I want to hear the story from your perspective.”

“Not much to tell,” Kurloz said, “They showed up at my door yesterday around noon, and I-”

“The _whole_ story,” Strider corrected himself.

“What?” Kurloz was barely able to get the word out.

“When did you first meet?”

“Wha-”

“When did you last see Meulin?”

“Why is this impor-”

“Where were you three nights ago, between eight PM and eight AM?”

Kurloz shot up. His expression was dark, and though his body was calm, his voice was not.

“You think _I_ did this?”

“I’m just covering all of my bases, unless you have something to hide?”

“I _don’t._ ”

“Then _answer_ the _questions._ ”

“Strider?” Jake stood in the doorway. “Can I talk to you?”

The two detectives huddled together and spoke in whisper. Kurloz wanted to figure out what they were saying, but Latula hit him on the arm.

“What the hell was that?” she hissed at him.

He reeled. He thought that, at least, she’d be on his side. “He was practically _accusing-_ ”

“Yeah. He’s an asshole cop. I deal with asshole cops every Goddamn day of my life. _That,_ ” she waved her arm, “Was not ‘dealing’.”

Kurloz was about to retaliate, but suddenly, Strider spoke up.

“Fine.” He brushed past English and walked out. The shorter man sighed. He took a notepad out of his pocket and ripped off a clean sheet, scrawling down something. He handed it to Kurloz.

The paper listed two names, _D. Strider_ and _J. English_ , each followed by a phone number.

“We’re staying in town,” English said, “so if you want to talk, give us a call. We’ll be back, anyway, but…”

“Are you leaving?” Latula asked.

English shook his head. “I’ve got a few more questions for the kids, but then I’ll go. Di-Strider, I mean, he won’t be back again today.” He nodded to the briefcase on the bed. “Why don’t you, uh, show him that, Pyrope?”

Kurloz felt his face pale, and his stomach fell. But he sat at the desk, he let Latula open up the briefcase and pull out a series of photocopies. She left him alone to read.

The first entry was dated about three months after they’d parted ways.

_The doctor was late today, and I had a new nurse. I broke down in front of her, and told her all about everything that had happened. Kurloz, the fight, finding out, the abortion stuff, and last night’s break-in. She told me to start seeing a professional, to help with my stress levels. It’s bad for them. But I can’t afford that, so she told me to keep a diary instead…_

A lot of the entries were short, two or three sentences about her health and the twins’. But a notable one, when she was probably about six months pregnant;

_Somebody got shot last night. It wasn’t far away; I could feel it. I told Dirk, and he’s making me move in with him. It’s a good idea. He lives in a nice part of town, and his place is nice. People might get the wrong idea, you know, him bringing a pregnant girl to live with him, but he says he doesn’t care._

About a month later, there was a much longer entry. Since the first one, this was the next to mention Kurloz by name.

_I’m sick. They won’t hardly let me stand up because they think I’ll get worse. They think I’ll hurt myself. Think I’ll hurt them. Not even born yet, and I’m already hurting them. I’m going to be an awful mother. I can’t be a mother. I wish Kurloz was here. Kurloz knows what to do with me. Kurloz knows how to be good with kids. I told Dirk about the time when Kurloz and I were at the park and we saw a kid fall off the monkey bars and break his arm. By the time the kid’s mom found him, Kurloz had him laughing, eating ice cream, forgetting about his arm. Kurloz will be a good dad one day. I used to wonder what it would be like_

_It’s easy to write his name. Kurloz Kurloz Kurloz Kurloz Kurloz Kurloz_

And about a month after that,

_They’re alive, and they’re healthy, and I can hold them now. Nepeta and Gamzee. Gamzee and Nepeta. They look like us._

For a long time after that, there were no entries at all.

_Nepeta hasn’t started talking. I didn’t notice until just now. Dirk and I had an argument; he told me that if I won’t get an implant I should at least get hearing aids._

_He’s right. I thought it wouldn’t be an issue, but something’s wrong with my daughter and I didn’t even realize it._

_What kind of mother am I?_

Kurloz pushed away from the desk and cradled his head in his hands.

Something touched his arm. He looked up to see his children standing by him.

Gamzee reached up and pressed his hand to Kurloz’s forehead. “Are you okay?”

He smiled at them. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. You… you kids wanna do something?”

He’d never been good at this “taking care of kids” thing, not for very long. But he figured it was time to learn.

* * *

They came back about mid-afternoon. Latula had brought a bag full of the kids’ clothes from Meulin’s apartment so Kurloz didn’t have to worry about shopping for them, at least not yet. Both five-year-olds seemed to have tired themselves out with the excitement of the park. Watching them have so much fun, with big, glowing smiles on their faces, helped Kurloz forget, momentarily, about the stress of their current situation.

The little ones raced into the apartment and climbed up on the sofa. Gamzee waved his arms in the air to get Kurloz’s attention.

“Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“Mm-hm?”

The child pointed. “Whassat?”

The cello. Pushed off in its own corner, it had apparently escaped notice of the children until now.

“It’s a musical instrument. A cello.”

“Can you play a song?”

“Mm-hm…” Kurloz pulled the cello from its resting place. He sat in a chair, instrument between his knees. Drawing the bow across the strings once, he watched the kids’ eyes light up. “What do you want to hear?” When he’d first started learning, he’d been taught an array of simple children’s songs. But rather than shouting out answers, as he thought they would, the twins looked at each other.

There was a moment of silence. Gamzee looked at him, almost sheepishly.

“Do you know the plane song?”

Kurloz furrowed his brow. “What’s the plane song?”

Gamzee looked down, frowning, but Nepeta closed her eys. She opened her mouth and began to sing, something that sounded like gibberish at first.

“ _Say vala, valat ah va, nih tar et tih pa, veh la may, ah da les ay,”_

Kurloz knew. He picked up right on the next part of the verse. Nepeta stopped singing when she realized he was playing along with her, and both children just listened, faces full of wonder.

He played through the first verse and the second. This was a song that Meulin taught him when they first started going out; she sang it all the time. It was actually in French, and he recalled the lyrics as he finished the second, and last, verse.

_Et dans la tourmente_

_Tes ailes triomphantes_

_N’oublie pas de revenir_

_Vers moi._

When the last note faded, there was silence. They all seemed to be in a trance for a  few minutes.

“Can we watch TV?” Gamzee said, breaking the spell. Kurloz jolted.

“Yeah,” he said, replacing his cello in its usual spot. He turned the TV on and found a child-friendly channel to keep them occupied.

Nepeta wasn’t finished with him, though.

“Um,” she said, “Um, ah…”

Neither would call him “dad”. Kurloz tried not to think about that. “Yes?”

“Why was you an’ Dirk fightin’?”

Kurloz sat forward. “Who?” _And why do I know that name?_

“Dirk. Y’know, the police guy.”

“… How do you know that’s his name?”

“Cuz he comes over to help Momma out,” Nepeta said. “He calls me Lion.”

“Hold on.” Kurloz dug a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was the thing that Jake had written the phone numbers on. “I gotta make a call.” He pulled out his phone and dialed the number next to _D. Strider_.

Kurloz stepped into his bedroom.

The call picked up after the second ring.

_“Hello?”_

“So your name is Dirk?”

_“Who is this?”_

“Kurloz. Jake left me your numbers. Your name is Dirk, as in the Dirk that Meulin lived with?”

_“… We should talk.”_

“There’s a diner on the corner of First Avenue and Pearson Street. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

_“Why does this shit always happen in diners? Yeah, I’ll be there.”_

“Good.” Kurloz hung up and dialed another number immediately.

_“Kurloz? Dude, you never called me back. I was getting worried.”_

“Mm-hm. What’re you doing tonight, Ruf?”

_“Staying home with Aradia. Why?”_

“I need someone to watch the kids while I go meet with someone. Latula’s busy with cop stuff and calling Mituna would be the opposite of a solution.”

_“You’ve still got the kids? What’s going on?”_

“I’ll explain later. Can you or can’t you?”

_“… Sure. When do you need me to come over?”_

“Less than an hour. Bye.”

* * *

There was a knock on the door forty minutes later. Kurloz opened it, and Rufioh was there, and Aradia was right next to him.

“Kurz!” She ran right into Kurloz’s legs, hugging his shins.

Rufioh laughed and pulled his daughter off of him.

“Okay, Kurloz said, turning to the twins, “Gamzee, Nepeta, this is Rufioh and his daughter, Aradia. But I think you already know them. Rufioh’s going to be watching you guys until I get back.”

“Where you going?” Gamzee asked.

“Just gotta go talk to someone. I’ll be back soon.” He left, shutting the door behind him.

Rufioh put Aradia down, and she immediately ran to Gamzee. “Kurz.”

* * *

Kurloz was five minutes early. Dirk was fifteen.

“This is so stereotypical,” Dirk said when Kurloz sat down. He didn’t entertain the detective’s opinion, but got straight to business.

“You’re Meulin’s friend. She lived with you. You two’re close.”

“Yep,” Dirk said. His facial expression betrayed nothing.

“Does Latula know this?”

“Pyrope? No.”

“Because she’ll think you’re too close to the case.”

Dirk sipped his glass of water. “Exactly.”

“What if I told her this?” Kurloz wouldn’t. But he wanted to know exactly what it was that Dirk believed he had in this case, what reason he would now tell Kurloz what the truth was.

Dirk leveled a cool stare at Kurloz. “People go missing all the time. There are currently twelve missing persons reports, investigations going on in Teastone. In the last ten years, we’ve had about eighty missing persons cases in our jurisdiction run cold. Posters put up on our bulletin board are covered over regularly. I’ve seen the detectives that have these cold cases. It’s numbing, it’s dulled, and after a while, it’s expected. If you tell Latula, and I get pulled from this case, it’ll fall to one of them, and chances are, Meulin’s just going to be another junky poster half-covered on our bulletin board. Am I understood?”

Kurloz ground his teeth, and his fists were clenched so tightly, his fingernails might break skin. “Are you threatening me?”

“Think of it as a friendly caution. Look,” Dirk leaned back, “I honestly don’t give a shit about you. If it weren’t for the fact that those kids seem to like you, for some reason, I would’ve pulled you off of this before you even knew what was happening. See, I’ve been honest with you. Now, I want you to be honest with me.”

“You still think I’m a suspect.”

“You haven’t given me an alibi.”

“You didn’t give mea _chance-_ ”

“I’m giving you one now. Look me in the eye, Mr. Makara, and tell me, honestly, that there is absolutely no reason at all for us to think that you would have any sort of malicious feelings or ill-intent towards Meulin. Let me know that you are completely innocent.”

Though outside, nothing changed, inside, Kurloz felt his heart drop. The way Dirk was talking to him, was so serious, so sure, he had to know. Had to know something. But Kurloz knew that that was what he was looking for. He kept his voice even, his demeanor calm.

“Take off those ridiculous fucking shades, then we’ll talk.”

Dirk snorted at that. He took off his sunglasses and put them beside him on the table, then folded his hands in front of him and leveled a cool glare at Kurloz.

Kurloz wanted to tell him to put the shades back on. With the blue glow cast by the fluorescent lights turning Dirk’s skin a slight cyan, the orange of his irises were even more piercing, more bright. They probably stared straight into his soul or something.

He had to stare back. “I loved her,” he said, low.

Dirk’s body flinched, jerked, just slightly. He seemed to stop breathing for a mere second, his eyes narrowing barely. “That doesn’t tell me shit.”

Kurloz unclenched his fists and laid his hands flat, palms down, on the table. He glanced down for just a moment, to give his eyes a break, before looking back. “Wednesday to Friday, I work the night shift at the Midnight Crew, a local bar. You can check. I wasn’t at Meulin’s. Fuck, I didn’t know where she lived until Nepeta and Gamzee showed up.”

“Well then,” Dirk stood, “I’ll have someone check in on that. Thanks for your cooperation.” He began to walk away.

“I’m sorry,” Kurloz started, “For how I… how I was.” His words seemed to be enough to get Dirk to stop. “I want to help.” He opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out. Dirk nodded.

“I know.” He began walking away again. “You’ve got my number,” he called over his shoulder, “Consider it an open line.”

Kurloz did have Dirk’s number, but it wasn’t the one he stared at as he walked home. No, there was another number, down past Dirk’s, and Rufioh’s, and Mituna’s, and the number that the-that _his_ -children used to call him. A ways down in his recent call list was a number that he used only a few times a year, when alcohol and drugs and sexual desires sent him to a bad place, a place full of memories of failure and disappointment. When he needed someone not just to fuck, but someone he could, somewhat, trust.

He was used to the feeling of disgust associated with his actions when he came back to himself, but this feeling was new. He felt disbelief, a disconnection to that part of him, as if he were looking at his life from somewhere far away.

He hadn’t meant to say what he said in there. The L-word rolled off of his tongue easily, and he mindlessly said it to himself, a low voice, as he walked home. No, it wasn’t that word that had tripped him up.

It was the stutter on the “d”. It was the stop.

In the cool night air, and in his discontent, he began to hum.

As he reached the end of the song, Kurloz stumbled over the last phrase as he struggled to remember what it meant.

_N’oublie pas de revenir vers moi._

* * *

Meulin could see the way the sky changed from a few cracks in the boards that covered the window, but time didn’t really mean anything in here. When she slept, when she ate, it all ran together. She couldn’t move, so she had nothing to do but eat and sleep, and only use the toilet when she was allowed.

Damara had not been back. Nobody visited Meulin. She still did not have a face to put to her captor, nor a name. She was lost and alone and helpless, and it made her angry, but she had already exhausted her physical threshold for anger.

She was just tired all of the time.

Rolling over to push her face into the pillow on the bed that had become her cell, in the room of her prison, she mumbled a song.

“Et dans la tourmente, tes ailes triomphantes. N’oublie pas de revenir vers moi.”

_And in the torment, your wings triumph. Don’t forget to return to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Paper Airplanes" or "Avions en Papier" is a song from a very popular French movie called "Les Choristes" / "The Chorus" in America.


	3. Always Here for You / Five Nights Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good night's rest would do all good. A shame no one's getting a good night's rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuity errors in Chapter 1 fixed:
> 
> "beach" in the sentence describing Meenah's vacation home changed to "lake" to tie in to later mention in the chapter of the lake that Kurloz sees in his dream, which is a memory of that same night.
> 
> The portion in that same section about Meulin "turning on her aid to hear the music itself" has been deleted to follow continuity of Chapter 2's diary entry mentioning that Dirk had to convince Meulin to invest in hearing aids.

_This was the argument._

_This was what drove them apart, just before she moved away, moved to get ready to start college._

_“It doesn’t matter! It never-fucking-matters!” He threw the book he’d had in his hand at the wall. It made a satisfying noise, but both satisfaction and noise lasted only a moment. He folded over, wrenching his hands in his hair, and screamed._

_“Kurloz!” Meulin stood behind him, in the middle of his room. In the middle of the storm._

_The eye is the calmest._

_“Please stop. Put the lamp down. I’m sure it’s not that bad-”_

_He turned. “Not that bad? You,” he brandished the lamp like a weapon, “Oh, fuck off! You don’t get to fucking talk about it like that. You don’t know.”_

_“Then tell me!”_

_“Aargh-” Kurloz turned back to the dresser and slammed the lamp down, denting the wood. “Just shut the fuck up!”_

_“You won’t talk to me,” Meulin said, quietly._

_“You won’t let me talk,” Kurloz countered, nearly spitting it at her_

_She had no response. Her silence made him angry._

_“You’re all the same,” he spoke carefully, but his fury broke through more frequently. “You’re all the fucking same, and none of you will let me speak. Shut up!” His control was disintegrating. He tugged at his hair again, letting go and swinging his arms forward. Meulin ducked to keep from being hit. “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone! I’m tired of people like you trying to keep me quiet! You can’t fucking do that anymore; I won’t fucking let you!”_

_He turned away, gripping the edges of his dresser so hard that the sharp corners bit into his palms._

_She put her hand gently on his arm, but he jerked it away._

_“So what,” Meulin said, and her voice was low and dark, but it was close, so close, he knew how close she was, and why hadn’t he noticed how close? “You’re gonna be like your father and speak with your fists?”_

_Kurloz turned sharply, livid, and felt his arm connect with something. Meulin slammed against the bedroom wall and fell to the floor._

_Back then, she’d struggled to her feet and rushed out the door, the last time he saw her. But this was a dream. This time, she looked up at him, accusation in her eyes._

_“This is your fault,” she said._

* * *

 

Kurloz jerked awake, breathing hard. His limbs still felt tense, like he was still standing over her. He rolled over and looked at his clock; three in the morning.

This was the second night in a row that he’d had this dream. Nightmare.

The kids were on an air mattress in the next room. Kurloz listened; they did not wake up.

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. Since his meeting with Dirk two nights before, he hadn’t been able to sleep for thinking about that time. The way Dirk had urged him to consider his innocence, Kurloz figured he probably knew. If not that Kurloz had hit her, then something.

In his mind, her eyes still bored into his.

This was the memory he’d tried to fight against when Dirk asked him if he was innocent. This was his sin.

He dialed a number. This was a confession he had to make.

“Dirk.”

“My boyfriend’s going to start thinking you’re hitting on me if you keep calling me.”

“I hit her.”

There was a rustling on the other end. After a minute of silence, Dirk spoke again.

“Talk.”

Kurloz shut his bedroom door. He’d been keeping it open in case Nepeta or Gamzee needed him at night, but right then, he needed his privacy.

“I fought with my father a lot. He was an abuser. He… he took things too far one day,and I got mad. Real motherfuckin’ mad. I took it out on my stuff, throwing shit. She tried to calm me down, and I…”

He fell silent. Dirk waited on the other end, but not for long.

“Keep talking.”

“I don’t-”

“ _Keep. Fucking. Talking._ ”

“I pushed her! I fucking knocked her against a wall. I hurt her, and then I never saw her again. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Was this before or after you got her pregnant?”

“I didn’t know she-”

“Before or after?”

“After.”

There was more silence on the other end.

“… Hello?”

“This is kind of fucked up, man.”

“Yeah.”

“No, no, no, I don’t think you really get it. Meulin lived with me for a year and a half, almost two years. I’ve known her and helped her for almost six years. I have seen so many people, men and women, flirt with her. Some really nice people. Some really rich people, people who could’ve helped support her. And-”

“Why the fuck are you telling me this?”

“To make you jealous. To make you feel like shit. Because I don’t give a shit about you. But… shit, she had… I guessed why, but even so… Yeah, this is kind of fucked up.”

“What are you talking about?”

A long, drawn-out sigh came from the other end. “Please tell me you’re more capable in the daylight hours. And go to bed.”

“But I just told you that-”

“I know what you told me. Go to bed.”

Dirk hung up.

But Kurloz couldn’t go to sleep. He instead stared up at the darkness and counted down the minutes.

_“Can’t sleep?”_

That was the second time they had had sex; their first time had been rushed, following a party where they’d planned on it but never actually got to. Kurloz had driven Meulin to the Zahhaks’, where she was living at the time, but for the entire drive, she’d had her hands on him, until he couldn’t take it anymore. They’d run into the empty house and made it to her bedroom, but not her bed; barely even shed any clothes before Kurloz had her against the wall.

But they wanted the next time to be less rushed; not to say that wall-sex wasn’t enjoyable, but they wanted it to last longer, be more passionate, without a looming threat of being seen.

When Kurloz finally got the house to himself for once, it was a long, loving night. They didn’t even try to sleep until the early hours of the morning, but for some reason, it never came to Kurloz. She slept for a short time, but woke up and saw that he was still awake.

“Can’t sleep?” she’d said.

“I’m fine.”

She’d been silent for a time. “I’m here. You know that, right? I’ll always be here.”

He didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that she’d spoken. She moved closer to him. He felt the tingle of her fingers lightly gliding over his chest, down his far arm, and to his hand. She held it in hers, fingers interlacing

_“Always here for you.”_

* * *

 

He jerked awake again. This time, Kurloz hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep. His hand, the one she’d held, grasped for her hand and found nothing but air.

He shut his eyes tight and held his breath, willing the pain in his chest to go away.

“Um.”

Eyes opened. He sat upright, looking towards his bedroom door. Barely outlined in the light of just-before-morning, what time was it?, was one of the twins. From that one syllable, he couldn’t tell which.

“Is ever-” he coughed to clear his throat, “Everything alright?”

The child stepped into the room. “I can’t sleep.”

He was pretty sure it was Gamzee. “Come here.”

Gamzee walked over and climbed up on the mattress.

“Bad dream?”

“Mm. Yeah. How’d you know?”

Kurloz shrugged. “Get ‘em, too.”

“No way.” Gamzee breathed. Even in the low light, Kurloz could see how wide the boy’s eyes were. “Grow-ups don’t get bad dreams.”

“Everyone does.”

“Momma didn’t.”

“Gamzee?” A voice came from the other room. Nepeta.

“Here!” Gamzee called. There was a rustling, moving noise, and then Nepeta was at his doorway, too.

“I had a bad dream,” she said, coming to the bed.

“Everyone does,” Kurloz repeated.

“Can we,” Nepeta began.

“Sleep with you?” Gamzee finished.

Kurloz shifted back on the bed to give them room to get up. Gamzee crawled over his legs to the other side of the bed, and Nepeta followed. They huddled together.

“… What if Momma doesn’t come back?” Gamzee whispered.

Nepeta whined. Kurloz felt his breath catch in his throat, and it took him a few seconds to realize that he had to say something.

“She’ll come back. We’ll find her. I promise.”

“Hnn…” Nepeta burrowed deeper into the covers.

“… If she doesn’t, are we gonna stay with you?”

Without realizing it, Kurloz made a sound that could be taken for an affirmation. Whether the kids understood it or not, they both quickly fell asleep under his security.

The same could not be said for him. Kurloz stared down at the forms of his children.

These were his children. _His fucking children_. They were his children, and he was their father.

The sheer gravity of this never really hit him until now.

But they weren’t just his children. It takes two. As Kurloz reached out to stroke each of their little cherubic faces before lying down on his back again to stare up at the darkness, he reminded himself of this.

He and Meulin came together to make these beings. Two souls would not exist in this world if it weren’t for them. If it weren’t for…

It all came back to him in full. The night that the twins had to have been conceived, the night of the party at Meenah’s, when he and Meulin were in the shorehouse.

When she looked him in the eyes, before kissing him, to say something that she’d said many times before, but not once since the accident. Something that she’d said about many things, even about him, more times than he could count, but never with such sureness, such honesty.

Something that made him forget everything he’d ever learned so that he could fill himself, every cell of his being, with nothing but her.

_“I love you.”_

Kurloz shut his eyes again, but the pain wouldn’t go away.

Two souls wouldn’t exist in this world if it weren’t for their love.

* * *

 

A flame cut through the darkness of the room, only barely illuminating the figure that carried it. Meulin couldn’t see who had come to see her until the person turned on the lamp that was out of her reach.

Meulin’s eyes teared up, stung by betrayal and hopelessness. Damara didn’t meet her eyes, but gave her another glass of water and, when the prisoner was finished with that, helped her into a sitting position.

“What time is it?” was the first, meaningless question Meulin asked. She switched on her aid.

“I do not know.”

“How,” Meulin said sharply, “How can you not know? You’re-”

Damara shushed her. “When I am here, I am like you. Prisoner.”

“You-you can walk-”

“I cannot leave.” Damara sat behind Meulin on the bed. She had a brush in hand, and began gently detangling Meulin’s hair. “They know my daughter. Can hurt her.”

Tears anew began. “Please, Damara, they have my children, too. Please, please, we used to be friends, don’t you remember? Help me-”

“Shh. Shhhh…” the other girl hugged her from behind. “Quiet now. Do not let them know I am here.” She began rubbing Meulin’s back and shoulders, working out knots from staying  in such a closed area, unable to stretch. “They do not have your children.”

Meulin blinked. “Wha… what? How do you know?”

“Your children like my daughter. They are with their father. This is what he tells me.”

Meulin tried to ask her next question, but it was hard enough just to breathe. Her children, her darling Gamzee and precious Nepeta, were with the man that she’d loved for nearly nine years, and hadn’t seen for six. She saw him now, in her mind’s eye, and it was almost too much.

“Kuh… Kurloz. They’re with Kurloz… who told you this?”

“Man who saw them together hisself. Father of my daughter. Rufioh.”

“Oh? Oh.” This information was new. Last Meulin had heard regarding Rufioh, he’d broken up with Horuss and left the state. Apparently, he’d come back. “That’s…”

Damara went back to brushing Meulin’s hair. Both were quiet.

“Kurloz will take good care of your children.”

Meulin sat up a little straighter. “What? How can you know that?”

“I know lot. I know what happen. When you fight. He tell me.” She let out a long breath. “I give services of… certain kind. He call me sometime. Sometime we do nothing. Sometime we fuck. Is nothing to him.” Meulin curled in on herself a bit. Damara kept talking. “I know is nothing, because sometime, he get drunk. Or high. And when he do, all he talk about,” she leaned forward, over Meulin’s shoulder, and turned the girl’s head so that she could see her eyes when she spoke, eyes that were just starting to tear up again, “Is you.”

Meulin bowed her head to cry again, and Damara rested her own head on her friend’s shoulder. She closed her eyes.

“He love you. He love them. This I know.”

Damara continued to brush Meulin’s hair and rub her back, trying her best to ease as much tension as she could, to get her friend into a state where she could sleep again.

Emotional exhaustion did take over, and Meulin did sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flow of the chapter titles and the timeline of the story work when you consider the night of Meulin's kidnapping to be "Night Zero" or "Zero/No Nights Gone" and let the schedule work from there.

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I start these when I have so many to finish?


End file.
